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letra de don't fucc up - skimask troopaz

don’t fucc up lyrics
[verse 1: z-dogg]
i’m waking up friday morning to a mack black blunt
i get my pump and load it up and put it into my trunk
i’m on my way to do a stang for the hoe with my keys
i got my cellular phone and called up some of my g’s
i picked them up on the block now we leaving the scene
we look so mean we ride so clean now we fire up that green
we full of the blunts, with the smoke it’s z-dogg in this b-tch
i got my pump, it’s loaded up and i ain’t taking no sh-t
i’m ’bout to lay these n-ggas down put this crown on my chest
so many n-ggas get caught slipping with no bullet proof vest
i hit the junt and kicked the buster put my pump to his head
you gotta drop off them keys beforе you end up dead
we did thе stang we got away we took the mask off our face
with four deep, we straight from frayser never catching no case

[verse 2: a.k.]
player-hating n-ggas wanna step to me
mad ’cause i’m cl!cking with the gimmi-sum family
f-ck that sh-t, i got the antidote to solve your problems
kick in your doors, with my glock and commence
to popping on a heavy n-gga always wanna talk sh-t
got him on his knees crying like a punk b-tch
pop him in his head with my motherf-cking steel
gotta let him know this n-gga from the north is for real
machete on the side of my back f-cking pocket
take it out and shove it through your f-cking eye socket
laugh as the blood start to gush everywhere
tie you to grenades in a god d-mn chair
mafia style k!lling is what you be getting
too late to beg and plead and ask me for forgiveness
i quickly set the bomb, i hear his screams as i run
crashing through your window cause my mission has been done
[verse 3: big hill]
now officer friendly backing off because the blasting of the sawed-off
big baller, my rottweilers they maulers
i got the nine with the beam
hollow point rounds with teflon tips
making these busters scream
well levi’s can’t stitch them jeans
face down on the concrete as i leap, back into my lexus jeep
stash my heat, and fire up a tampa sweet
rolling down your street b-tch, now who’s talking sh-t?
c-ck-sucker flauging with that skinny b-tch
hey, young girl, stay young, ’cause when you get big
them water guns ain’t toys, them n-ggas ain’t no boys
these hoes creep when you sleep
they serving that alcohol with some visine
nighty-night trick sweet dreams

[outro: lil ced]
really i could care less ’bout your boy
really i could care less ’bout your boy
really i could care less ’bout your boy and your f-cking business
glock, glock in my hand
glock, glock in my head
glock, glock

- skimask troopaz

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